The Toymaker DenNor
by UraharaSteph
Summary: A loud mouthed Danish Toymaker is renowned for being the best toymaker in Denmark, but he soon finds a rival that motivates him to push himself to the limits and create something perfect that every child, and adult for that matter, would want.


_Denmark-x-Norway_

**The Toymaker**

A loud Dane by the name of Mathias lived above and owned a magical shop. It wasn't _really_ enchanted, but the front display made from perfectly carved wooden toys and a rainbow of bright, glittery colours drew young children to the window as though some sort of spell had been flung upon them. Each little toy soldier or doll with glass eyes had their own little quirk, giving them a uniqueness and a breath of life. Mathias' creations were hailed as the best toys in Denmark, and he was more than proud of that recognition, and made sure to tell every soul who entered his little shop about his success.

However, as the years flew by, the cocky Danish toy maker began to see less and less people waltz through the door. He sat on a wobbly stool every day and tapped the tips of his fingers against the dark wood of his counter in anticipation. His sapphire eyes would eagerly ogle the bronze bell which dangled above the entrance to his store, in hopes that his staring match with it would make a customer arrive. On the rare occasion someone did enter, his noisy enthusiasm would quickly shoo them out and leave him bewildered by how he could fail to make a sale.

On one wintery afternoon; during his lunch break he decided to wrap himself up in his red and white stripped scarf and set out to see where all the playful youths were being pulled too. He flipped around the sign on the door so it read 'Closed for lunch' and hid his lips in the woolly fabric hugging his neck before he dug his chapped hands into the cosy pockets of his huge and puffy coat.

He looked up and down the street, noticing there were a fair few kids out and about, hidden under thick hats and cute mittens, but none of them even glanced at his renowned shop. Instead, they cupped their parent's hands and dragged them forward, giggling with excitement all the while. Mathias tilted his head to the side and wondered what could steal the hungry attention of the children away from his sculptured toys which he had always flawlessly sold in the past. His silent question was soon answered when his ears were greeted by the harsh sound of a squeal-like cry from a little boy.

Mathias turned to watch the scene unfold as a short boy of about eleven or twelve tried to wriggle free of his father's grasp. Short blonde hair poked out from under his hat, and his eyebrows were dark, thick and furrowed as he thrashed about. "No! I want to go to the toyshop!" The child protested in a somewhat English accent.

"Please Peter! Berwald will get angry if we disturb him at work. L-Let's just get some more food for Hana-"

"Forget the dog! I want to see daddy and get more free toys! Please mommy!"

The 'mommy' suddenly grew pale and looked rather disturbed by what the young lad had just shouted out in the middle of the street. "P-P-P-Peter! I told you not to c-call me that in public! Oh… I knew I shouldn't have taken you shopping with me today…"

Mathias smirked at the scene. He decided not to get involved with it as it seemed all too complicated for him to be bothered with. Two daddies and a British kid- it sounded like the summary of a terrible radio soap opera. The Dane ran a leather-clad chapped hand through his tufts of silk, blonde hair and sighed into the scarf. There was one thing that the brat had shouted out that Mathias was interested in; A toyshop where someone called Berwald worked. Mathias had never paid a visit to this store; in fact, he never even knew it existed.

He strolled along the pavement in the direction the boy had been struggling towards. Mathias decided that it must have been in that general direction and his logic was that; sooner or later he would stumble across a building, advertising dolls and various other tools for play in a large window. He was not mistaken, as a little down the road from his own shop stood a grand, brand new structure with a bright banner and an array of knickknacks that sparkled with life and beauty set up in view.

A clear bead of sweat rolled down the side of the Dane's face as he gawked at the new building in awe. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nervously scoffed. He had definitely found the place that had kidnapped his loyal customers and brainwashed them into spending their money elsewhere. Mathias gritted his teeth and pushed open the door as he braced himself for what he was about to encounter.

The soft chime of a bell signalled his entrance. He had almost forgotten what it sounded like when someone walked into a shop. There were a few youngsters with their parents looming behind them examining the products, but it wasn't as busy as Mathias had expected. The smack of the thick heels on his boots accompanied each step he took as he explored the area. His eyes would shift from left to right, but his body and head stayed facing the counter he swiftly approached.

Behind the worktop stood a tall male with eyes as blue as the Dane's and even brighter golden locks of hair, which was much shorter and tame compared to Mathias'. He was sanding down a leg of wood as he gazed at it over the frame of his thin spectacles, absorbed by his actions. Mathias watched flakes of shavings dance to the ground with each push his rival made on the wood.

Mathias coughed into his fist and curled his lips into a fake grin as he prepared himself for a subtly bitter introduction. "Goddag, I'm Mathias, you've probably heard of me. I'm the King of toys in Northern Europe." He announced with confidence and poise.

"Nej, I haven't heard of you." The man simply replied without even removing his eyes from his job.

"O-oh really…? You must be living under a rock or somethin'."Ironic the Dane should say that, considering the fact that he had only just learned of his rival. Mathias averted his gaze to the little figurines placed by the cash register, strategically stood there to coax people into a last-minute-buy. He picked one up and fondled it between his long fingers before comparing it to its sisters still on the counter. "You put a lot of effort into making each of these as similar to the other as possible, don't ya?" Mathias commented, obviously not impressed.

"Ja."

"Why bother? They're not unique and special like that."

"It stops children f'ghting over th'm. No child gets treated differently when they 'll receive the same."

"Tch, but it makes it look like you didn't put any heart and emotion into crafting them." The Dane retorted with a small pout pursing his lips.

"Nej, not true. When a m'ther births twins, she st'll loves them both, even if th'y share the same face. They still c'rry her heart and love."

"You're Swedish aren't you?" Mathias suddenly questioned as he tossed the little figure back to its sisters and switched his concentration to something else.

"What gave it away?"

"The accent. I don't get how YOU are the one thieving all my business. You may have a bigger store and a brighter aura, but what does my merchandise lack that yours doesn't?" The Dane rhetorically asked as a bored expression masked his features. He refused to look the Swede in the eye.

Mathias' rival lifted his head and slowly raised his large hand. He straightened out a finger and pointed to a little girl who wrapped her tiny, fragile arms around a ragdoll with auburn strings for hair. "Ask…" He then dropped his limb and returned to his task of shaping the plank.

The Dane eyed the girl while listening to how the dull blade scrapped the timber. It was a horrible scratching noise that strained his ears more than it did when he heard it when working himself. "Fine…" He mumbled and rolled his eyes slightly before he lowered himself down to the girl's height. She was gazing into the ragdoll's sewn eyes. Mathias studied the attire it was in, until his eyes found a tag that said 'Berwald's' in fancy lettering, also sewn into the white material. It appeared he made more than just wooden creations.

"Hey there little girl." Mathias spread a charming and handsome smile onto his face and tilted his head to the side while collecting the female's attention. She stared at him, but did not say anything. Her lips were a flat line and she looked nervous about the sudden communication between her and the strange man. "Is that your doll?"

A few more moments of peace and stillness until the little girl looked down at the raggedy plush in her arms. "It will be when Mommy pays for it." She then brought the product up to her face and rubbed her cheek against the doll.

"Oh that's nice. What do you like about her?" Mathias inquired as he picked up a few strands of string hair and ran his fingers through it.

The girl timidly turned away. She was shy and she was always told not to speak to strangers, but this man was too happy and approachable to ignore. "Um… I don't know…" She muttered in a quiet and reserved voice. Mathias was already expecting an answer like that, but he waited a few moments longer before saying anything else. The silence made the girl turn back to look at him and say something else, just to shake the awkwardness off of the two of them. "I like her face. It's very pretty. When I picked her up, I felt like she could be my little sister. I only have brothers, and she looked like she needed a friend."

"Oh? But what about all her sisters on the shelf that look just like her?"

The girl shook her head. "They might all look like each other… but only Rosey wanted to go out and find a new family. When I picked her up, she felt very happy to be hugged, so I decided I needed to take her home and she can be my sister. I looked at the others, but they didn't look as good as Rosey."

Mathias straightened up and rubbed the back of his head. What he assumed the girl was saying; was that even though they all looked the same, they had different souls inside of them. He presumed 'Rosey' was the name the little girl had bestowed upon her new family member. He frowned a little still not understanding what the difference between Berwald's work and his own was.

"Thanks kid, you look after 'Rosey' OK?" Mathias uttered out as the child's mother swiftly began to push her offspring away from the Danish stranger. He turned to look at the bespectacled shopkeeper who was once again fully focused on his crafting. Mathias' lips parted as thought he was going to make a witty comment, yet his voice failed him and after half a minute he shut his jaw and thickly swallowed the lump in his throat.

Without a single murmur from the Dane, he turned and exited the building as his heels clacked louder than they had during his entrance. His pace had accelerated and on the way back to his own store he looked up at the sky. The clouds clumped together and cast a dark, grey shadow over the cobblestone pavements as soft flakes of white began to gracefully fall through the air very slowly. Mathias simply pulled his scarf further over his mouth and felt the warmth of his breath bounce from the fabric and onto his cheeks.

When he got back to his shop, he slammed the door behind him and left the sign how it was. He roughly tugged the wool from his face and threw his gloves into one of the doll's houses situated by the doorway. He swivelled his body around and ruffled his locks of hair to either flick the snow out of it or to force it to melt. Mathias reached up with ease to slide across the bronze lock and he bent down to do the same with the lock at the bottom of the door. Even though it was only late afternoon, Mathias felt like there was no point in keeping his shop open any longer.

As he raced out to the backroom, he unbuttoned the large coat. He hung it up on a small steel hook and closed the door behind him. Mathias ventured deep into the workshop and flicked on the lights with determination sparkling in his eyes. There was no gap between the quality of Berwald's merchandise and his own so he was determined to create something so intriguing and beautiful that the children would be ready to fight till death over the creation that would never be simply replicated.

Sat on a comfortable oak stool, Mathias laid out all the materials he needed to work on a doll-like-none-before. He grabbed the pre-made limbs for his creation, a dull and plain skull, flat, pale arms and two short, pale legs. Mathias laid them in position before he gripped a trail of flexible but firm wire. Soft and strong material was then needed as well as a cushiony substance to fill the middle of the doll with. Once everything was in place he then fixed everything together so he could start on the little outfit.

He grasped a handful of blue weave and began to clothe the doll in his finest satin. Something similar to a Norwegian sailor outfit was crafted from the Dane's nimble fingers as he cut and sewed through the soft and silky material. Mathias' eye soon grew strained as the light bulb hanging above his desk dimmed and flickered; he had been meaning to change that for some time now.

Suited up, the doll was sat on a metallic chair ready for a face to be sketched upon it. Mathias frowned and took in the form of the blank dummy and wondered what kind of face to give the smooth and flawless porcelain. A smirk came to his lips as an idea glowed happily in his mind. The stool's legs scratched harshly against the concrete as Mathias pushed it back so he could get up.

In one of the many draws of his cabinet there were two dark blue, yet almost purple, marbles. Mathias had always kept them from his childhood but he never knew why. There was no reason to keep them but there was no reason to toss them aside along with rubbish when they were perfect, un-chipped and a luscious mixture of colours. They were a mysterious pair of orbs, and that is what made them perfect for his doll's eyes.

Mathias dragged his stool back under him and positioned himself opposite his creation. With surgical precision, he inserted the marbles into the two black voids. He snatched up a slim paintbrush from a jar and flicked open a pot pale-pink paint so he could dip the bristles into it and apply it to the ceramic lips in a flat line. Blonde eyebrows were pencilled on and a few small details were added here and there.

A moment was taken for Mathias to step back and admire his progress. The bald figure stared back at him blankly, urging him to find a wig. Mathias ran a tired hand through his wild locks and heaved out a stressed sigh. With his fingers still gripping his hair, the thought of cutting off his own strands occurred to him. He then chuckled to himself and whispered in a sweet voice;

"My hair is too bright and fun for this guy… Maybe a duller blonde… where the heck am I going to find the perfect hair for this perfect man though?"

He huffed and plunged down back onto the circular seat of his stool. He glared at his naked creation with a hatred; that is until he remembered the soft mohair in one of the draws. He leaned forward and pulled out the top one to reveal strands of the supple light strands of goat hair. A devilish smirk came to the Dane's face and he was quick to weave a short head-of-hair together.

Still the doll seemed incomplete and lifeless. The gorgeous marble eyes that shined and shimmered in the flickering light was not enough to breathe a breath of life into the stiff and motionless piece of art. Even with the hair, a faultless replica of that of a human's, combed to the side and falling gently over the doll's face; it was inadequate. Even slipping on black boots to cover his cold and small feet was not enough to be the finishing touch.

"Oh come on… Ah… is this the gap between me and that Berwald guy? Is my doll really lacking despite all this time and effort I've put into him?" Mathias took hold of the elegant and slender china hand of the doll and gazed into the thoughtless eyes. "It must be morning outside…" He whispered to his friend as the faint chirping of a bird's morning song came muffled into the workshop. He had poured all his soul and sweat into that creation with only a few breaks for biscuits or the bathroom. "Damn it, what's missing?!" Mathias yelled infuriated as he threw the hand away from him.

He held his head and scrunched up his eyes so that they were tightly closed. He gritted down on his teeth hard as he critically analysed the toy, wondering what he could have possibly missed out. "Ah whatever, I need sleep." He grumbled as he finally surrendered to the daunting exhaustion hanging over his shoulders. He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and turned to face the door.

As he did, the tips of his fingers brushed over a cold steel. He blinked a couple of times before he plucked the shape from his trousers and studied it with a fatigued vision. The object was a small silver cross with a glowing front and dull black. Mathias turned back to the doll and held the cross up as if to compare the two.

He trotted back over to his work desk, was once again sat on his stool and fiddled with the cross against the doll's strands of hair. Once concluding that it would be a fabulous accessory, he began to glue a hatch onto the back of it in order to turn the cross into a hair pin. It took a few attempts in order to get it right, but eventually the pin would stay in place and not slide down the smooth locks.

Mathias weakly grinned at his creation and briefly hallucinated that a smile had quickly sprang up on the doll's still face. He rubbed his weary orbs and rested his head against the worktop while holding the doll's hand. "Lukas." He meekly whispered as he couldn't help but let his eyelids flutter close. A content sigh left his lips before more words carefully tumbled out of his mouth; "Your name is Lukas." If for a moment, Mathias had felt the tiny hand clutch his finger with a warmth that could only belong to a human, and soon after the Danish toy maker fell into a deep, deep sleep, where he would forever play with Lukas.


End file.
